


Orange is a Good Color

by Detokaki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beach Volleyball, Brazil Arc, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Flustered Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou’s Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oikawa Tooru's Belly Button, Sandcastles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detokaki/pseuds/Detokaki
Summary: After a few rounds of sweaty, midday beach volleyball, Oikawa Tooru and Hinata Shouyou go for a friendly dip in the ocean, and lay on the beach afterwards. When Hinata begins to build a sandcastle on Tooru's body, the setter doesn't think much of it until he realizes how close they are.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87





	Orange is a Good Color

“Oh, good fucking lord!” Oikawa Tooru wailed as he allowed heavy steps to melt into clumsy staggers, kicking sand as sweat wept rivulets of wetness and salt into his eyes. The tropical sun beat down on him as his muscles screamed for reprieve from holding his body upright. He threw his head back, squinching his eyes shut against the ball of white heat that glared at him from it’s perch high in a cloudless sky. “It’s so god damn hot!”

“Oikawa-san! Don’t swear like that in public! There’s little kids around!”

Tooru snapped around to face the source of the reproach, praying he wasn’t within jabbing range. He wasn’t sure if his muscles would be able to respond in time to dodge. Over the past few days of playing multiple rounds of beach volleyball with a very feisty Ninja Shouyou, Tooru had grown familiar with the hands of the little athlete, for better or for worse. The nickname “Ninja” was quite apt, as he was quick to strike, and even though it was all in jest, Tooru still had a lingering bruise or two from such encounters.

As for whether or not he deserved them, Tooru would rather not discuss.

Thankfully, this time he was not within Hinata’s striking distance. The redhead was wiping his sweaty face with a sandy beach towel a few safe meters away, mingling with a few of his Brazilian acquaintances. _He and Iwa-chan would get along too well,_ Tooru thought, vowing to never let them become acquainted for as long as he could help it. _I would probably get beat to a pulp between the two of them._

Feeling brave, he countered, “Yeah, and not a single one of them speaks Japanese! Duh!”

Hinata paused dabbing at his eyes to blink at Tooru, who wondered if his sass just earned him a quick towel whip on his behind. Hinata’s face simply cracked into a wholesome grin, exclaiming, “Oh! You’re right!” He reached into his bag and pulled out two matching, vivid sports drinks, tossing one to Tooru, who was beyond appreciative of the considerate gesture.

“Oh, thanks! I think you just single-handedly saved me from heatstroke!”

At that, Hinata eyed him over his own bottle. “Are you okay, Oikawa-san? Do you need to sit down?”

“Nah, I’m just exaggerating! I’m okay. I’m not gonna pass out… at least, I don’t think I will. I think after today, we should just stick to playing at night.”

“Oh,” Hinata chewed on the plastic rim of his bottle. “Do you wanna go for a swim to cool off?”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit!”

“Just put your shirt and stuff in my bag, and I’ll bring it to the edge of the water, where we can see it!”

Hinata wasted no time in shucking his sweaty tee onto his bag, hollering his plan to the other players, who bid them off with a Portuguese phrase that Tooru did not know. He realized he needed to do the same, or his shirtless amigo would be halfway down the beach before he knew it. He seemed pretty eager, after all.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” he exclaimed, stripping off his own shirt on top of Hinata’s and taking off behind him.

\---

“Sorry, did I get you in the face too much?”

Tooru would never admit that he lost the splash battle to Hinata. It was a very one-sided and short lived affair, ending when both men were swamped by an unexpected breaker. After righting themselves in the shallows and laughing until their ribs hurt, they dragged themselves to the edge of the surf and flopped down onto the wet beach next to their belongings, panting as the sea froth undulated back and forth, tickling their toes.

Hauling himself up to rest on his elbows, Tooru attempted to blink the sea salt from his eyes, grinning, “It was the wave that got me, not you.”

“Mhmm.”

The sarcasm in that single sound was almost tangible, but Tooru allowed Hinata this moment to gloat. He was far too exhausted for a rematch, at least for today. The inexhaustible creature that he was, Hinata had already begun another activity, digging a shallow pit into the sand between them. _Maybe, when I see him tomorrow, I will drop a handful of ice down his shorts._

“Lean back.”

The request was unexpected; born of a comfortable silence between them, and somewhat dubious in nature. Tooru was reluctant to oblige. His lip curled, and he cocked his head, asking, “Why?”

“Just do it.”

The hand Hinata placed on Tooru’s shoulder was warm and salt-sticky, and while that in and of itself was an experience, it was the gentleness with which the younger man touched him that took Tooru by surprise. It was not the first of such occurrences, as Hinata was not always recklessly throwing hands at Tooru, and Tooru did not always deserve such disciplinary action. Many of their interactions were casual, coming in the forms of a high-five after a nasty service ace, or an amicable pat on the shoulder after a hearty laugh. This touch, however, one of kindness and charged insistence, was unfamiliar.

The setter accommodated this direction, and sank slowly until he lay flat on his back, cradling his head on folded arms. Next to him, Hinata sat up, and his shadow cast itself heavily onto Tooru’s chest. Goosepimples sprung up where it landed. Unnerved by this inadvertent physical reaction, he complained, “Scoot up to block the sun from my eyes, please.”

“Yes, oh Grand King, how I live to serve thee.”

Despite the lighthearted dig, Hinata did as he was asked. All at once, the sun disappeared behind his head and engulfed him in a furious crown of incandescent orange. A gust of wind whipped through his hair, still floppy with seawater, and flicked a cold droplet onto Tooru’s cheek, who could only stare at him like an idiot.

_Naranja, he thought. Naranja es un buen color._

Then, little beads of cold, wet sand plopped onto his stomach, puncturing his ruminations and stealing a humiliating yelp from his lungs.

“Ah! What the hell? That feels...”

Hinata scooped another sopping handful of sand from the little pit he had dug, and proceeded to dribble it onto Tooru’s belly, where it pooled like molasses before trickling down the sides of his waist and dripping back onto the beach below him. He laughed as Tooru squirmed.

“I’m making you into a sandcastle!”

“Your method’s pretty inefficient, Chibi-chan.”

“It’s gotta build.”

“It’s not gonna build, it’s too wet. See, look! It keeps sliding off!”

“That’s ‘cause you keep moving!”

“No I don’t!”

“Fine,” Hinata conceded, stretching up and over Tooru to grab a scrape up some of the drier, sunbaked sand just beyond where they lay sprawled, who tried to ignore the way his body tensed at the action. His arm twitched as he imagined a braver version of himself touching fingers to the tanned skin hovering just inches from his face, seeking out his heartbeat, curious if it beat a similar rhythm to his own hectic tempo. _Maybe if I press hard enough, I could feel inside him... I could understand what makes him tick._

Hinata was quick to shatter his poetic musings, slapping a handful of packed sand directly onto his abdominals.

“Lemme lay some foundation!”

Tooru grew silent, letting Hinata spread more sand across his torso, evening the crests and divots of his body, pressing and smoothing until Tooru bore a chestplate of packed earth. He shallowed his breathing, suddenly mindful of himself and how each movement he made held the capacity to shatter Hinata’s work, and with it, this peculiar moment that felt very much like the rest of the world had dissipated into nothing. There was only the rush of breaking waves, the heat of the sun, the salt in his mouth, the sand that encompassed him, and Hinata.

They were close. Everything was heavy, pressing into his body with a quiet urgency that he struggled to interpret.

Tooru felt like Atlas.

“There! Now the water will just seep through, and it’ll stay pretty solid!”

He turned his head, finding Hinata’s gold-flecked gaze already trained on his face. Hinata grinned, and asked, “Comfy?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good.”

The percussion of wet sand as it dripped from Hinata’s outstretched hand and onto his body was muted, the minute vibrations of each droplet’s impact permeating throughout the mock chestplate. When his reserve of batter was exhausted, Hinata scooped another handful to repeat the process. By the time structures had formed, rugged and knobby like cave stalagmites, Tooru could feel the cool water from the construction bleed down to tickle his skin.

“Who taught you to make sandcastles like this? It’s weird.”

“ _You’re_ weird. And, no one taught me! The other day I saw some kids use this method. It looked cool after a while, really funky, like something out of a fantasy. Like… Atlantis! This is actually my first time trying it!”

“So I’m just an experiment?”

Hinata trailed his fingers into the seawater that had pooled into his pit, and the sunlight reflecting onto his profile frolicked across his freckles. He hummed, stating quietly and simply, “No, you’re gonna be my masterpiece.”

Tooru begged the tropical climate for its forgiveness, regretting spending the day cursing and bemoaning its heat and humidity when he should have been more appreciative of its nature. After all, it made for an excellent scapegoat on which he could blame the flush that abruptly saturated his cheeks and ears. If Hinata were to call him out on this sudden hue shift, it would be easy enough to suggest that he was just getting a little sunburned.

He didn’t, but the corners of his mouth did curl up a fraction.

Tearing himself away from Hinata’s bemused expression before he did something even more embarrassing, Tooru focused on the hand that came and decorated him further. After a bit, spires and arches began to bristle from his torso, so astoundingly delicate that he held his breath as Hinata dipped his hand closer. The sand and water trickled from his fist to the point of his downturned thumb, dripping off until the sediment building on itself rose to form another knurled steeple.

Like this, Hinata forged a world on Tooru, and Tooru simply watched.

When one tower, established directly above his sternum, grew too unwieldy to support its own weight, it crumbled without provocation and rolled to settle in the hollow of his neck. Even though he hadn’t moved in the slightest, apart from taking tiny, preservative breaths, Tooru felt a tentative apology grow in his throat, desperate to cling onto the peace that had settled around them.

It was unlike anything he had experienced before, and therefore worth all effort towards preservation.

Hinata Shouyou was a phenomenon, skyrocketing from nowhere to crash directly into Tooru’s own hungry existence, exploding like a firework and coloring his lonely night sky in effervescence and laughter. Through him, he rediscovered his proclivity to play, his penchant for exploration, and his general fervor for life. It was a world hellbent on putting him through the wringer; a world insistent he fly solo, above it all. Tooru discovered what it meant to stand up and tell himself, _I will find my joy._

_I will find it, and more._

_I want more._

_I want._

Suddenly, Tooru understood something.

For his part, Hinata did not fuss over the destruction, and instead moved to treat the fallen tower as an expansion of the foundation he had set earlier, splattering the ruins with a fresh creation. Tooru pulled his lips into a tight line as the watery spillover cascaded down the sides of his neck, trying not to draw similarities between the sensation and other forms of touch.

_Lips. Breath. Tongue._

_I want._

Tooru closed his eyes. He kept them shut as wet sand tapped a cadence like impatient fingertips beyond the foundation and onto his naked clavicle, then onto his shoulder, and then back again, tracing a grainy, viscous pathway that tickled as it ran over his bare skin. He only just maintained his breath, his countenance, and his sanity.

“Oikawa-san.”

Upon hearing his name, Tooru slowly peeled open his eyelids. His brow was tense, steeped in caution, as the voice that had whispered to him was much closer to his ear than before. Orange engulfed his vision, blurry from the immediacy of it all. Hinata pulled back, but only just.

His eyes were trained on Tooru’s own, flickering, investigative; marking the terrain of his face like a hunter seeking tracks. There was a demand, there, too. Watch me.

Okay, Tooru agreed.

Without breaking their fervent eye contact, Hinata carried on with his ministrations. Tooru’s breath hitched with the arrival of sudden clarity; the realization that he had been played. This whole thing was some grand experiment, though less artistic in its endeavors than previously suspected.

Could I touch you here? Like this? How does this feel? Hinata asked with his eyes, gauging his reaction.

Tooru leaned his head back, baring the soft tissue of his neck in answer. The sand stopped falling.

 _I think I found a piece of myself in you, Shouyou,_ he thought, too frightened to put such a conclusion to words. It was, after all, absurd. They were two ex-rivals on a sunny beach, far from the only home they ever knew, chasing their ambitions across the globe. He only had a few more days here until he headed back to Argentina. Yet here they were now, together.

He supposed absurdity only scratched the surface of it all.

Still, Tooru waited for the soft contact of something to meet him. When none came, he tilted his head to face Hinata, who was still crouched low over him, eyes blown and shimmering with avarice. Apparently, it was his turn to blush something furious. Between his vivacious orange hair and this new complexion, Hinata was a perfect delineation of a human sunset. That thought alone was enough to launch Tooru into a barely-contained fit of giggles. The castle foundations shook like an earthquake, and several spires tumbled down to shatter on the sand below before a crevasse opened, right down Tooru’s middle, splitting the whole base into two.

“Oh… oh no…” he breathed, realizing what his frivolity had accomplished. After surveying the damage, he whipped his gaze to Hinata. Whatever sacred atmosphere they had built over the last half hour had surely dissipated, Tooru was sure of that much.

When Hinata responded with nothing but an airy chuckle, it wasn’t really what Tooru expected, but he was happy to accept it over a retributive pinch or noogie. “Oikawa-san,” he snickered, eyes crinkled in genuine mirth. “You’re crumbling.”

With that, the soft touch finally came.

It did not grace his lips, cheekbones, or neck, as he had hoped, but made landfall in the form of four warm fingers tracing the dell of the damage from the top of his breastbone down to his stomach, which reactively tensed into rigidity. Hinata stilled his hand over Tooru’s belly button, and the amber eyes that had been following his own movements turned back to his face to arrest the setter’s full attention.

With their gazes locked once more, Hinata slowly circled a finger around the rim of Tooru’s navel once. Twice. Then, he raised his eyebrows infinitesimally, as if he grasped the implications of his actions.

As if to atone for the suggestive intimacy, Hinata jammed his digit hard into Tooru’s belly button and wriggled it around like a worm. To further destroy any residual tension, he accompanied the action with a fart noise made with his mouth.

_And, there it is._

“You motherfucker!” Tooru hollered, bucking as Hinata mercilessly tickled his gut, decimating what was left of the castle. He righted himself, only to bowl the younger man over, manhandling him until he was able to throw him bodily over his shoulder. He was grateful to his teammates for badgering him into a lifting program, as the shorty was stacked like a bag of rocks. “That’s it!”

“Hah! W-Wait, Oikawa-san, what’re you doing?”

“What do you eat? Christ!” Tooru huffed as he began marching them both determinedly into the surf.

“Put me down!”

“Nope, this is what you get.”

Tooru waded out until the water lapped at his waist, and then hurled a flailing, squawking Hinata as far into the waves as his strength allowed. This only ended up being about one meter. As he dipped himself lower to rinse the sand from his body, Hinata surfaced, sputtering, appearing very much like a drowned mutt. His bewildered expression was enough to launch Tooru into another fit of laughter.

Hinata paddled towards him, grumbling, “Mean, Oikawa-san!”

“Are you kidding me? _You’re_ mean!”

Hinata made a sour face, like he intended on arguing, then relaxed his expression and offered a quiet, “Sorry.” He submerged his mouth to blow bubbles into the water.

Suddenly fearful of the intention behind the word, Tooru backtracked, anchoring his feet in the sand below.

“I-It wasn’t all bad, Chibi-chan. It was nice. I mean, the castle! Your castle was really cool. Sorry I wrecked it.”

“It’s okay. Castles don’t last, anyways. I wasn’t gonna keep you pinned forever.”

 _You could have,_ Tooru observed quietly, blinking at Hinata, whose head still bobbed with the swells and valleys of the ocean as it rose and fell around them. They weren’t so deep that he couldn’t maintain footing; this whimsicality was intentional. _You little siren._

“Geez, I’d hope not,” Tooru deflected, and immediately regretted it. It only took a split second for Hinata’s gaze to fall from his face and back to the sea froth between them. In an effort to reclaim the thread of quaint conversation, he redirected Hinata’s attention back to himself. “Anyways, my belly button is red from all your digging and scratching around!”

“Is it?” Hinata’s eyebrows shot up the height of his forehead, eyes wide with concern. “Lemme see!”

Tooru obliged, adjusting his footing in the pull of the tide to stand to his full height, his navel and its surrounding angry patch of skin just breaching the water’s surface. “ _Uuwah!_ It really is!” Hinata squealed, extending a finger to poke the agitated area. Tooru batted his hand away, quite wary of its intentions.

“No! Not until you learn how to touch nicely! Where’d you learn to be so handsy, anyways? Certainly not Tobio?”

“I mean, we fought a few times! But I must have picked it up from my senpai, Suga-san! He was our vice-captain my first year at Karasuno. He would smack us around if we weren’t focused, like _hei!_ And it got us back into the right headspace! Most of the time, anyways.”

“Hmm.”

“But I know how to be nice, too!”

Hinata paddled closer, his expression resolute, the soft spot between his brows pinched into shallow grooves. A hefty swell, just on the edge of breaking, billowed the two men up, momentarily breaking them from each other’s sight. When it passed, and Tooru found his footing again, the two were in such close proximity that he saw the droplets on Hinata’s eyelashes tremble with the determination to justify his statement.

Tooru, too, was desperate for the affirmation.

“Prove it.”

The tender hands that yoked themselves around his waist were a warm and surprising contrast to the ocean enveloping them, and the air in Tooru’s lungs left his body in covetous awe. Hinata held his own body submerged, wafting easily with the tide, his face even with Tooru’s abdominals. He pulled himself closer, brilliant orange hair sleek and sopping.

_Naranja es un buen color._

A few strands of it tickled his belly when Hinata pressed lips to his skin, searing each and every nerve they connected to with intention and fire. He first kissed the reddened area around Tooru’s navel, then just below it. Hinata moved slowly, featherlight; working his mouth across the flat of his stomach.

Tooru felt the heat of it all melt into his gut.

_I want._

All too soon, Hinata pulled back to let slip a grin, dazzling and innocuous, as though he hadn’t just single-handedly annihilated Tooru’s entire grasp on reality.

“See? Nice!”

“Y-Yeah,” Tooru breathed, enraptured by the sight of Hinata’s wide eyes staring up at him from below, his lips gleaming with wetness. Tooru wondered how much of the shine was because of the sea, and how much of it was residual saliva. “T-That, you… yeah, nice… it was nice, but...”

“... But?”

“Now that you’ve shown me your nice...” Tooru trailed off, his breath only a notch above the breeze, knowing that in a matter of minutes he would lose the bravery to speak to life the desire that permeated throughout him, from his head to his fingertips to his toes, and back again.

“Show me your everything else.”

\---

**Author's Note:**

> My first published OiHina fic <3 I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> A thousand blessings to my beta, CC <3
> 
> Find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/detokaki)


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